They go for 5 yuan each and, according to one report, they come
with atmospheric flavours including “pristine Tibet,
post-industrial Taiwan and revolutionary Yan'an.” Presumably the
“pristine Tibet” can smells ever so slightly of gunpowder.

The story tells us two things. First, the price of China’s rapid
development is that it now has to cope with the same problems
that beset the already developed world. It’s good, because it
means people are getting richer.But it’s bad because it means the
country is experiencing what London went through in the 1950s as
the industrial landscape coughs up its blackened lungs.

But the story also suggests that the response of China’s new
middle class is to ape the indulgent lifestyle consumerism of
their Western counterparts. The cans of air are partly being sold
asa way of promoting environmentalism, although no one has
pointed out that the manufacture and disposal of all the cans
used in the process will, itself,contribute towards China’s
pollution.

Chen said the air is put into pull-tag cans he invented, with a
chip in each can. The air is not compressed – he said his staff
need only swing their hands three times to push the air into the
can. When there is enough air, the chip will make the cap close
automatically.

So, in short, some bloke stands on a mountain, waves a can about,
takes it to market and sells it for money. And aside from fooling
the buyer in to thinking that they're helping to keep China
clean, what are the benefits?

According to Chen, “Open the can and three deep breaths will
allow you to have a good mood and a clear mind.” In the West,
such vague nonsense would probably get you hauled before the
advertising standards people. But China is still in the early,
naive stages of consumerism.

We've all been there. It won’t be long before we see Clive
Sinclair’s C5 buzzing through Beijing’s bust streets, and dream
catchers hanging in Tiananmen Square.